


That Star Fall Down

by fiercynn



Category: Castle
Genre: Case Fic, Character of Color, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Plotty, Romance, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercynn/pseuds/fiercynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, but a sudden look at the expression on Esposito's face made him close it again. He looked not only pissed, but a little too invested; and there was that strange feeling in Ryan's stomach again, except this time it wasn't heavy so much as tight and clenched, threatening to choke all the air out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Star Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrimsonQuills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonQuills/gifts).



> Mild Castle spoilers up to 2.21 "Den of Thieves"; this story is set sometime vaguely between that episode and the Season 2 finale. However, there are massive spoilers for Agatha Christie's _Death on the Nile_, upon which the plot of this story is pretty much entirely based.
> 
> This was written for the help_haiti fandom auction (though finished months late). Many thanks are in order: to everyone who endured me complaining about my own lameness and procrastination when it came to writing this, mostly my amazing roommates; especially to glass_moment for letting me try to get her into Castle just so I could talk her ear off and make her read over this; and very especially to slylilgoblin, not only for an amazingly thorough beta (she would tell me that this sentence is too long and to beware the semi-colon! I'm ignoring her advice this one time), but for getting _me_ into Castle in the first place. Oh, and for the line about the rubber chicken that I may have just stolen from her.

Jenny dumped Ryan on a Thursday.

Well, "dumped" was perhaps a harsh way of putting it. The separation had, after all, been fairly amicable. She still liked him, but she felt they were both too busy with their jobs and different schedules to go anywhere, and there was a guy at her work she'd been noticing so she wanted to end this on a high note. Ryan had thanked her for her honesty and kissed her goodbye with a promise from her to keep in touch as friends. She'd probably do it, too, and for the rest of that night he hadn't even felt that bad about it, just mildly disappointed and wistful.

It wasn't until the next day that it had really hit him, the post-break up low that struck no matter how easy it had been. Because here was the thing: Ryan had really, really liked Jenny. She was smart and funny and affectionate, and kind of ridiculously cute, and she and Ryan had _fit_, somehow. He wasn't head-over-heels in love; he may not have been able to imagine spending the rest of his life with her; but he had imagined at least a couple months ahead at a time. They'd fallen into comfortable patterns: going out to dinner to celebrate his solved cases or her successful business deals, cuddling up for movies on her couch, lazy Sunday mornings in his bed when it might take them hours just to get up for coffee. It was nice, knowing there'd be someone there, someone he cared about and looked forward to seeing, for at least the foreseeable future.

All of which explained why he ended up moping for the rest of Friday afternoon in the precinct as he and Esposito caught up with paperwork.

"You all right, man?" Esposito said, looking over at him from the computer and frowning. "Jenny?"

Okay, so maybe he had been a little upset last night because he had texted Esposito about it right away, feeling a bit like he was still in middle school, though not enough to actually call. Esposito had texted back all those reassuring manly things that best friends were supposed to say, _that sucks bro_ and _on the bright side theres peanut butter_ (Jenny was allergic), and this morning he had given Ryan a sympathetic look and a clap on the shoulder when he'd come in. But Ryan must have been looking pretty bad at the moment because Esposito hadn't actually brought it up until now.

Ryan sighed, fiddling with his pen. "It's just – I was going to take her out to Rosa Mexicana tonight, you know. And then we'd talked about trying to get last-minute tickets to something Off-Broadway. Now…"

Esposito hesitated. "Well, I can't promise anything fancy to eat," he said finally, "but how about pizza, beer, and baseball movies at my place?"

Ryan glanced up at him. "You sure? I mean, you really want to spend a Friday night with me sulking on your couch?"

Esposito shot him a smirk, saying, "Hey, as long as it's my couch and not that wreck you try to call furniture, I should be fine," and Ryan snorted out a laugh, flashing him a grateful look. Esposito smiled, something a little more considering and honest in his eyes. "It'll be fun."

It was, in a strange way. They'd ended up with _Field of Dreams_ – which, combined with alcohol, never failed to get Ryan waxing eloquent about how there had to be some sort of way to make "If you build it, he will come" into a pick-up line, with equal parts irreverence and drunken sincerity, while Esposito laughed his head off. After that they'd had enough to drink to risk watching an episode of that new cop show on TNT and had proceeded to rip it apart, until somewhere along the way, Ryan fell asleep on the couch.

*

Ryan awoke with a terrible crick in his neck and a slight feeling of disorientation, but only because when he usually slept on Esposito's couch, he lay with his head on the other side. He rubbed his eyes blearily and stumbled to the bathroom, and it wasn't until he was finished that he realized there were sounds coming from the kitchen.

He padded over and found Esposito at the stove in his boxers with a bowl of batter and a box of Bisquick. "Ooh, pancakes?"

"Morning," said Esposito with a grin. "Yeah, blueberry."

"Isn't that awfully domestic?" Ryan teased.

Esposito blinked and looked confused for a moment, but then he just waved a hand and said, "Nah, when it's two dudes it's just impressive that they manage to cook anything that's not Top Ramen."

"If you say so," said Ryan with a smirk.

"Hey, no one's forcing you to eat them…"

"Shutting up now."

After breakfast Ryan washed the dishes while Esposito changed. By the time he was finished, Esposito was standing in the living room with his coat in one hand and a cell phone in the other, finishing up a conversation. "Si, claro. Quizás dos horas? Okay. Yeah, bye, mom."

"You heading out too?" Ryan said after he'd hung up, then felt stupid.

"Yeah, just going to visit my parents." Esposito shot him an easy grin. "Want to come?"

Ryan almost said no instinctively, because the offer seemed just a little too generous. But Esposito was looking at him with no sense of obligation in his expression, just friendly and – inviting . And really, the only good reason he had to refuse was so that he didn't have to admit he had nothing else to do, to salvage his pride. But Esposito knew him too well. He didn't really need his pride when it came to that.

"You sure they don't want to spend time with just their son?"

Esposito raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding? My parents _love_ you. C'mon."

Ryan loved Esposito's parents too. He'd only met them a few times, but he'd known them almost as long as he'd known his partner. The first meeting had been barely a week after he was assigned to homicide. Even though he could tell that Esposito was a little sensitive about the situation – according to the precinct gossip, something to do with his old partner – he had been standoffish for only a few days before opening up and welcoming Ryan into, well, his life. So he'd invited Ryan home to meet his parents, and Ryan had taken an instant liking to them. Paolo was a friendly man but in a rather quiet way, while Teresa was warm, talkative, and funny, and had clearly passed on her humor to her son.

This time, she wrapped Ryan in a huge hug as soon as they arrived and didn't ask about Jenny, for which Ryan was grateful even if that made it obvious Esposito had somehow pre-warned her. "Guess what my book club has chosen for this month," she said, eyes sparkling.

Esposito groaned loudly. "Please don't tell me it's _Heat Wave_."

"How can I lie to my son?"

"Very easily," Esposito insisted.

"There's no point, she's already finished the book," Paolo put in.

"I enjoyed it!" Teresa said indignantly. "What don't you like about it?"

Esposito glanced sideways at Ryan, looking uncomfortable. "It's just a bit weird," he admitted. "The whole 'Roach' thing? Not the most flattering nickname."

"I thought it was rather sweet that he showed what a good team the two of you are," said Teresa, giving him a knowing look. "In fact, I'd like to meet this Castle, shake his hand for making my baby famous. You should bring him up here, Javi."

Esposito looked even more embarrassed, though that was probably at being called "baby" and even "Javi", which apparently only family was allowed to do. "Yeah, sure."

"You should invite his family too," Ryan put in. "Mrs. Esposito –"

"Kevin, please, _Teresa_."

"– sorry, Teresa: I have a feeling you and Martha Castle would get along quite well."

The look Esposito shot him was so horrified that it almost made up for the whole week.

*

Their next case surfaced the very next day, giving Ryan something else to distract him from the empty Sunday that lay ahead. Not only that, but the crime scene was in an unusual location: aboard a large yacht on the Hudson that had apparently been taken out the previous night for a party. Ryan, Esposito, and Castle all arrived at the docks within five minutes of each other, where Beckett had already scouted out the scene.

"Female, 29, shot in the head while asleep in her cabin," Beckett said, sipping the coffee Castle had brought her. Ryan suspected that was what they should really be thankful to Castle for – not the fame or the influence that resulted in their precinct missing out on budget cuts, but for the constant source of caffeine. "Her name was Gracie Quinones."

"Sounds familiar," said Castle.

"That's probably because she's a reggaeton artist, pretty well known in the city," Beckett supplied. "Alexis didn't listen to her music, did she?"

"If she did, I think it was only casually, thank god. I don't know what she'd do if another one of her favorite musicians was brutally murdered."

Esposito nodded sympathetically. "Man, I remember being in high school when Kurt Cobain killed himself, that was terrible."

"You were into grunge?" Ryan said dubiously.

"Shut up," said Esposito. "What was the occasion for the cruise?"

"Quinones had a concert last night, and this was the after-party, held on her own private yacht. The boat left the harbor at eleven last night and got back around four this morning."

"Because they'd discovered the body?"

"Surprisingly, no," said Beckett, eyes gleaming. "That's where this story gets weirder."

"Ooh, she really likes this one," Esposito said, sharing a grin with Ryan.

"It's _weird_," Beckett continued with a glare, "because at around the time it was estimated that Gracie was shot, there was an altercation between Gracie's husband, Freddy Guzman, and his ex-girlfriend, Estefani Haase. They were still up in the bar with a couple of other people, and in the process Estefani ended up shooting Freddy in the leg. They turned the boat around then to get Freddy to the hospital, but he didn't want to worry his wife so no one checked on her until this morning."

"So it could have been anyone either on the boat or after they returned to harbor?"

"Lanie puts the death between midnight and 3:30, so it's unlikely."

Ryan frowned. "And this Estefani didn't do it? She seems the obvious choice."

"She was watched by some of the other guests after the fight with Freddy. Anyway, she spent the rest of the night at a police station, so Castle and I will go get her story while the uniforms finish canvassing the boat itself. You guys go to the hospital and talk to the husband, okay?"

Esposito's mouth was set in a hard, flat line as they set off. Ryan glanced over at him a few times, finally asking, "What's up?"

"I'm not so sure how this part's going to be," said Esposito. "I know the guy. The husband."

Ryan frowned. "Really? Personally?"

"Went to high school together. We were friends, though I haven't heard from him in years."

"Think he'll remember you?"

Esposito shrugged. "I guess we'll see."

*

He did.

They had barely entered the hospital room when the man lying on the bed looked up, glanced down at their badges, and did a little double-take to stare back up at Esposito. "Javier? Javi Esposito?"

Ryan frowned at the nickname, but Esposito just gave a brief nod. "Hey, Freddy, long time no see."

Freddy laughed as he and Esposito clasped hands briefly. "Man, I don't believe it! I haven't seen you in forever! How's your family?"

Esposito looked taken aback or a moment, then smiled, as if despite himself. "They're not bad, thanks for asking. My brother's married, you know, with two kids."

"Yeah, I heard! I'm having trouble seeing Aarón as a dad, but it's a strange, strange world."

Ryan took a moment to study Freddy as he and Esposito caught up. He had an unusual face – features that seemed just a little disproportionate, hair that was maybe receding the tiniest bit. Really, Ryan didn't think he'd have noticed him if they'd passed in the street. But the bright grins that he was throwing Esposito as they reminisced nearly made took Ryan completely by surprise because man, the guy's face lit up in a way that was almost breath-taking.

Ryan glanced back at Esposito, who was grinning outright now, looking remarkably happy for someone who'd been dreading this visit. Ryan frowned. What had he been so nervous about? There was an admiring look in Esposito's eyes that Ryan had rarely seen before. Maybe a bad case of high school hero-worship?

"So you're a cop now, huh?" Freddy was saying. He shot a teasing smirk up at Esposito. "You any good?"

"The best," Ryan put in, his voice coming out a little louder than he'd meant it. He wasn't sure how he felt about Esposito palling it up with a potential suspect, but one thing he knew was that no one was going to question his partner's ability as a cop while Ryan was there.

Esposito gave him a surprised look, but Freddy was frowning a little at him. "Oh yeah?" he said as if he'd barely even noticed Ryan until that moment.

"Sorry, I almost forgot," said Esposito. "Freddy, this is my partner, Detective Kevin Ryan. Kev, this is Freddy Guzman."

Freddy gave him a nod and a smile, but he didn't extend his hand. "So our boy here's good, huh? No one ever thought he'd make anything of himself – didn't you get 'Most likely to live with his parents' in the yearbook senior year?"

Esposito said something in Spanish, and Freddy laughed and continued to Ryan, "Not me, though. I knew he was going to be good at whatever he did. Didn't know it was going to be with the NYPD, but still."

He turned back to Esposito, who was practically flushing with pleasure. Again, Ryan felt strange to see such an unusual reaction from his partner, who usually shied away from praise or just accepted it stoically instead of basking in it.

As he tried to figure out the change in Esposito's expression, the unfamiliar look in his eyes suddenly made sense: he didn't just admire Freddy, Ryan realized with a shock. What if Esposito'd had a _crush_ on the guy?

Esposito must have noticed something about the startled look on Ryan's face because he cleared his throat hurriedly. "Freddy, man, it's great to see you, but you know the real reason we're here." He paused, sobering. "I'm so sorry about your wife."

Freddy's eyes grew shadowed as his smile disappeared. He looked away for a moment, then sighed. "I don't really believe it yet," he said quietly. "Even with this bullet in my leg – hell, maybe because of that – it all just seems so surreal."

"Can you tell us how that happened?"

Freddy nodded. "Sure. Well, I guess you guys know all the background about my marriage?"

"A little," said Ryan, "but start from the beginning anyway."

"Well, you've heard about Stef, my ex. We dated for four years before I asked her to marry me, and everything was going great until our engagement party. That's where I met Gracie – Stef's childhood friend. And from the first moment I saw her, I felt – I mean, Stef was great, but Gracie just had this –" He broke off, shaking his head a little ruefully. "I don't know, she just outshone everything else, you know? It was like there wasn't even a choice. I remember avoiding her that whole night just because I didn't know what the fuck to do. It wasn't until a few weeks later after seeing her again that I admitted to myself I was in love with Gracie."

Ryan nodded. "So you married her."

"Hey, I know it sounds cold, and believe me, I was pretty broken up about ditching Stef. But in the end Gracie and I couldn't stay away from each other, no matter how bad we felt about hurting Stef. So yeah, we got married in October."

"And Stef?" Esposito asked.

Freddy grimaced. "She never got over it. She was furious at both of us, of course, and right from the time we got together she'd call and leave these really angry messages on our phones, saying stuff like 'I'll get you for this' and 'You deserve what's coming to you' and all that shit. And sometimes she'd show up randomly, at Gracie's shows or parties we went to – even restaurants where we ate. She never did anything, just watched us, but it freaked Gracie out."

"And you never contacted the police?"

"We felt bad, you know? She did get royally fucked over, no doubt about that," Freddy said, sounding guilty. "I wasn't going to let her get into any trouble over us. And the truth is that we didn't take her seriously. We thought she'd get over it eventually and leave us alone."

"Apparently she didn't," Esposito finished, a touch grim. "Okay, so that brings us to last night. What happened?"

"We were having a party after Gracie's first concert in months, and we'd decided to go all out, so we rented a cruise boat so that we could not only celebrate all night long but have rooms for our guests to stay in overnight. There were about – uh, thirty people invited, maybe?"

Ryan nodded, saying, "We have a list of all the guests. How did your ex get on the boat?"

Freddy grimaced. "She managed to convince one of my old friends, Naveen Moorthy, to take her as his date, and only did it last minute. She told him that she really needed to talk to me and I refused to see her, so it was only fair. Anyway, Gracie and I didn't realize she had joined until we'd already left the harbor. Gracie wanted to turn around or call the cops or something, but so far she hadn't been causing any trouble, so I convinced Gracie to just forget about it and have a good time."

"Did she?"

"No, she had couldn't let it go. I don't think Stef even spoke to her, but Gracie said that everywhere she went she could feel Stef's eyes on her. So she decided to go to bed early – by about 12:30, I think."

"And there's no way Stef could have left the party at any time between 12:30 and 3:00 to shoot Gracie?"

"I don't think so," he said, frowning. "I mean, I can't be sure, but I know I saw Stef pretty often in the crowd."

"She would've only needed a few minutes," Ryan pointed out.

"Yeah, but I was keeping an eye on her, you know? And so was Naveen – her date – because I'd asked him to keep her in check, and he was feeling guilty enough about tricking us that he stuck to her for most of the night. In fact, he and Gracie's manager, plus the bartender, were the only other people still up at around 3:00 when Stef and I started arguing."

"What started the fight?"

"We were both a little drunk, and I'd been trying to avoid a fight, but once there were only a few of us she started telling Naveen all about how I'd fucked her over. Things just escalated from there, and then –" Freddy swallowed. "She pulled out a gun from her purse and before anyone could do anything, she shot me. I just fell to the floor and started yelling, and that seemed to jolt her out of something because she looked horrified – even though I was in a hell of a lot of pain, I can still remember the expression on her face – and she dropped the gun and started crying."

"What did the others do?"

"Well, first Naveen ran off to try to find our friend Ben who used to be an EMT, but he came back and said he was passed out drunk. Then Kiet, Gracie's manager, told the bartender to get the captain to call 911 and take us back to the harbor. Stef was still crying and looked like she was going to have some kind of breakdown, so I told Naveen to take her back to her room to calm her down and watch after her until we got back to the city."

"What about you?"

"Well, Kiet gave me some brandy for the pain, but it wasn't really helping," Freddy said, looking wary. "So I, uh, asked him to go get me a little something else."

"How did you know he'd have something?"

"That wasn't really a problem with Kiet," Freddy admitted. "And whatever he gave me really did the job until we got to the harbor. I can't even remember much of the part in between, it's all pretty hazy. Anyway, when we got back there were an ambulance and a police car waiting for us, and I came here while they took Stef to a station."

Esposito nodded slowly. "And when did you hear about your wife?" he asked, voice gentle.

"This morning when I woke up after my surgery." Freddy's face looked distraught. "I just couldn't – it doesn't seem real, and I keep going over last night in my head, over and over. Like, what if I hadn't been drinking and fighting with Stef. Would I have been able to save Gracie? Maybe it's stupid, but I don't think so."

"I'm so sorry," Esposito said, voice still soft and regretful, and he put a hand over Freddy's on the bed.

Ryan looked between them for a moment, and said, trying to sound casual, "Hey, I'm just going to talk to the doctor for a sec, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," said Esposito, barely looking at him. "Freddy, I know this is a terrible time, but I do have to ask - did you or Gracie have any other enemies?"

Freddy drew a hand over his face and tried to grin. "Not me, unless your brother's turned homicidal about that bet I never paid up on," said Freddy as Ryan went out, and he could hear the two of them laughing.

Ryan gritted his teeth as the door closed behind him, a strange, heavy feeling in his stomach. He didn't know why, exactly, but something about this guy really put him off. Maybe it was just that he seemed like a jerk – screwing his fiancée over for her friend at their _engagement party_ – or maybe it was the slick, easy way he kept getting Esposito to smile like a besotted twelve-year-old. Not that he minded for any personal reasons, of course, but Ryan was worried that it could make Esposito less objective on the case, no matter which way it went.

He went to find Freddy's doctor, trying to push away his frustrations. "So what can you tell me about Mr. Guzman?"

"Well, the bullet was fired at very close range and it shattered Mr. Guzman's tibia, rendering him pretty much incapacitated. He should be able to hobble around with support soon enough, but it'll be a few months before he can walk unassisted."

"So – given that his wife was in her cabin at the other end of the boat, can you confirm that there is no way Mr. Guzman could have killed her?" Ryan felt like an idiot just for saying it; even though it was a standard line of investigation and one that he had to take, a small, vicious part of him seemed to want – what? The guy to be guilty? No, but to know that his role in all this was more complicated than just tragically bereaved husband, something that could get Esposito to understand he needed to be careful with his attachment to the guy.

And although he knew it was for the Esposito's own good, and for the good of the case, Ryan couldn't help feeling like a tool.

To his simultaneous chagrin and relief, the doctor was shaking her head adamantly. "Not after he was shot, no. Even if he had been left unsupervised for any amount of time, there is absolutely no way he could have walked that distance on that leg, let alone quickly enough to be undiscovered."

Ryan nodded. "Thanks, we just needed to be absolutely sure," he explained, though it didn't get rid of the sour feeling in his stomach.

He went back into Freddy's room and nodded to Esposito. "Talked to the doctor."

"Great," said Esposito.

"Anything else I can do to help right now?" Freddy asked.

"I think we're good," Ryan said a little brusquely. He paused. "Just one more question. Did you notice what happened to Stef's gun?"

"I have no idea," Freddy said slowly. "To tell you the truth, I completely forgot about it."

"Can't blame you, I think you had other things on your mind," said Esposito. "Thanks for all your help, Freddy. We'll get back to you soon."

*

On the way back to the precinct they drove in silence for a few minutes until something possessed Ryan to say, "So, no offense, but I think your old buddy's kind of a douche."

Esposito looked startled. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ryan cursed himself inwardly because he had no idea why he'd even blurted that out, but he couldn't back down now. "The way he treated his ex? That's pretty low, man," he said, not knowing where the pointed note in his voice came from, but unable to suppress.

Esposito frowned. "Okay, it wasn't exactly the nicest thing to do, but he fell in love. What can you do?"

"Come on, who actually falls for the hot new chick over the girl you've known and loved for years? Or marries her in a month and actually thinks it'll work out? Once the new car smell had faded, he'd have realized what a big mistake he made."

"Maybe that's true in your ideal romantic-comedy world," Esposito snorted. "But not in real life."

"Oh, and the whole love at first sight part doesn't stink of rom-com?"

"Not as much as the girl-next-door part. People don't actually fall for their best friends just because they should, no matter how _deserving_ they are." Esposito was sounding a little more heated now, even though they were still arguing about chick flick clichés. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but sometimes the hot new girl actually wins. Besides, the way he's treating Stef now? The girl _shot_ him, but he still feels bad and wants to make sure she's okay. Even if he can't love her, he's still looking out for her, which in my book makes him a more-than-decent guy about it."

Ryan frowned because what the hell was Esposito talking about? Freddy hadn't seemed all that concerned about Stef, and they hadn't been best friends anyway, they'd actually been engaged before he met Gracie. Ryan opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, but a sudden look at the expression on Esposito's face made him close it again. He looked not only pissed, but a little too invested; and there was that strange feeling in Ryan's stomach again, except this time it wasn't heavy so much as tight and clenched, threatening to choke all the air out of him.

After a moment Ryan said, "You seem to feel pretty strongly about this." He swallowed, then forced the words out of his mouth, because damn it, he had to know. "Was he your one that got away?"

Esposito looked shocked again. "What?" he demanded.

"Like Castle, with that wedding case where the bride was his old flame." Ryan turned to look him hard in the eye. "Was Freddy that to you?"

Anger rose in Esposito's face in a way that Ryan rarely ever saw, except when it came to criminals. "Are you serious? You – you really think you have the right to _say_ things like that to me?"

And oh, _that_ was like a punch to the gut. Ryan couldn't help his reaction; he knew his eyes were widening with hurt, but there was no way he could hide it.

Not from Esposito.

Ryan looked straight ahead at the road, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. Finally he said, stiffly, "I thought I had that right as your partner – and your friend. I need to know that you're not going to be – compromised – in this case." After a moment, he said, quietly enough that he wasn't even sure Esposito would hear him, "Would there be anything wrong with it if what I asked was true?"

"I – no," said Esposito. Ryan couldn't bring himself to look at his face yet, but his voice sounded a little strangled, confused and still mad, somehow. "No, not for – not for some –"

"And was I wrong?" Ryan asked.

This time he risked a glance over. Esposito's face was set like stone; then suddenly he sighed, visibly deflating, and said, equally soft, "Not completely."

"Not _completely_?"

"I was sixteen," Esposito said, sounding a little like the words were being ripped out of him. "He wasn't – it was just a – a thing, you know? I really looked up to him, wanted to be like him, and…sort of…wanted to be…with him."

"Oh," said Ryan, at a loss for words.

"Nothing ever happened," Esposito said hastily. "He never even knew. It really wasn't anything, okay?"

That was the answer Ryan had been looking for: a crush. Although he'd guessed as much earlier, and there wasn't really any harm in it, hearing it aloud didn't make him feel any better. Maybe it _wasn't_ any better than something more serious: a long-lost love was something strong, yes, but it was something real and fallacious and imperfect. An unrequited teenage crush? That was the stuff placed on the highest pedestals of nostalgia, something that had never been tarnished by reality.

Perhaps that was even more dangerous.

*

Beckett and Castle were already there when they got back to the precinct, Beckett starting an outline on the whiteboard while Castle talked animatedly at her. They didn't seem to notice anything wrong between Ryan and Esposito, because as soon as they walked over, Beckett just said, "What've you got?"

"It's clear the husband didn't do it," Esposito said, and Ryan tried not to think about how smoothly he was able to switch to speaking impersonally about his old buddy. Crush. Whatever. "But he's got quite a story."

Esposito quickly related it with Ryan jumping in at the pertinent moments. Even if they were out of sorts at the moment, their teamwork still came naturally, like something they couldn't help but do. For a moment it made Ryan feel normal, and perhaps a little reassured.

Castle and Beckett were both nodding by the time they finished. "Stef Haase's story matches that," Beckett confirmed.

"With a slightly different take on the Guzman-Quinones marriage," Castle put in.

"She was a wreck, though." Beckett shook her head. "I almost felt bad for her. It sounds like last night after the shooting she immediately went hysterical over what she had done. And then this morning after hearing about Gracie, she almost fainted. She kept saying over and over again that it was all her fault."

"She spent the night at a precinct, though?"

"Over at the 6th, yeah."

"That might be the best alibi I've ever heard," said Ryan.

"Psh, it's been done," Castle snorted. "I used something like that for my killer in _Fire Storm_."

"Yeah, but in that book the killer cleverly managed to use a rubber chicken, three pieces of corn, and a book of conversational Russian to stage their alibi, and I can't see our distraught and possibly unhinged ex-girlfriend pulling that off, can you?" said Beckett, eyebrows raised.

They all stared at her for a moment, Castle's surprise turning smug, and Beckett cleared her throat and tried to look unruffled. "So can we get back to real life now?"

"If we must," Castle sighed, still looking like the cat that got the cream. "So guys, what other suspects do we have?"

"At this point? Pretty much anyone on the damn boat," Ryan admitted. "Guzman didn't have any ideas about people with particular motives to kill her."

"What about the bullets?" said Castle.

"What about them?"

"Ballistics came back. The bullet that killed Gracie and the one Stef shot Freddy with were from the same gun," Beckett explained. "So the killer must have been someone who was around at the time of the fight and used the opportunity to his advantage."

"Well, that narrows it down," said Esposito, frowning. "The bartender, the manager, or the date."

"Sounds like a bad joke," said Castle. "I'd go for the manager."

"It was the manager last time we had a murdered musician," Ryan pointed out.

"Exactly. It's a double-blind. Did that in _Tropical Storm_ – it had the same basic solution as _Storm Trooper_ which came right before it, so no one guessed."

"Right, enough with the books, Castle," Becket said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, let's run background checks on all of them. Then we'll take the manager, and Ryan and Esposito, you talk to the date."

*

"I swear I didn't know!"

Naveen Moorthy was tall and lanky, and had been stern-faced until they showed him their badges. At that point he turned into an anxious mess, wringing his hands nervously and, in Ryan's opinion, suspiciously.

"Didn't know what?" said Esposito.

"That she had a gun!" he yelped again. "Okay, I know I shouldn't have let her convince me to come as my date, but I didn't know she was planning on _shooting_ anyone!"

"Let's start from the beginning," Esposito said smoothly. "What is your relationship to Freddy Guzman and Stef Haase?"

"I've known them both for a few years," said Naveen, "They were together when I met them. They always seemed like a sure thing, you know? When Freddy dumped her, it was horrible for everyone. And it was really pretty weird the way Freddy went off her so quickly – I mean, the first time he met Gracie he didn't even seem to like her, and she was hardcore hitting on _him_. But I guess something changed."

"So you took Stef's side?"

"I wouldn't say 'side'," said Naveen, wary. "But I stayed good friends with her, yeah. And I did resent Freddy for what he'd done, but I didn't think it was my place to tell him."

"Then why did you take Stef to the party?" Ryan asked.

Naveen shifted. "I didn't want to get involved, but she was so upset. I knew Freddy was refusing to even talk to her, so I thought maybe if I let her come with me, she could yell at him for a little while and get it out of her system. Then she'd get over him."

"All right, tell us about the night of the murder."

Naveen related his side of the story, matching all of Freddy's facts and confirming that the doctor he'd gone to find had been passed out in his cabin.

"And once you took Stef back to her room?" Ryan asked.

"I gave her a drink and then put her to bed. I guess she was exhausted, because she actually fell asleep, but I stayed up until we reached the harbor."

"And did you leave her cabin at any point before then?"

Naveen shook his head. "No, I wanted to keep an eye on her. I never even left her for a second, I swear," he said, a nervous note creeping back into his voice.

"Mr. Moorthy, we're not accusing you of anything, we just want the facts," Ryan said wearily. "Can anyone confirm that you stayed there?"

"No," said Naveen, still shaky, though he didn't protest any further. "Just Stef, but she was asleep."

"What happened to the gun?" Esposito put in

"Stef's gun? I have no idea. I didn't see what happened to it after she dropped it."

"She didn't have it when you took her back?"

"No, I guess it was left in the bar, wherever she kicked it on the floor. Why?"

"Because Gracie Quinones was killed by a bullet from the same gun," said Esposito, looking hard at him.

Naveen's mouth dropped open. "What? But…"

"Thank you for your time," said Ryan, pulling out his keys.

Esposito nodded, still watching Naveen carefully. "We'll be in touch."

*

"What do you think?" Ryan muttered as they waved a hand to the doorman and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Too nervous," said Esposito. "I think he clearly had no idea what was going on and had no desire to be in any kind of mess."

"Yeah, but he knew _something_ messy was going down when he let Stef come as his date," Ryan argued. "The nervousness could be an act to put us off."

"But what's the motive?" said Esposito. "He didn't even have any direct relationship with Gracie. Why kill her?"

They discussed the problem for a few minutes as Ryan drove before both of their cell phones rang. Esposito answered his and listened intently for a few minutes, then said, "'kay," and hung up, turning back to Ryan.

"So uniforms and medical finished examining the boat, but they didn't find much," he said, frowning. "The only DNA traces they could find in Gracie and Freddy's room belonged to the two of them, so the killer must have been pretty clean. But after taking an account of everything in the room and running it by Freddy, they've discovered that there was an expensive ruby necklace missing. Freddy and other witnesses from early on in the party confirm that she was wearing it that evening, but it has since disappeared."

"Could theft be a motive for Naveen?" Ryan mused. "We should look into his history, see if he has anything shady in his past."

"Yeah, check it," Beckett instructed them when they met up again at the station, "but I highly doubt he would have gone to all this trouble to steal it last night at the party when he was a friend of Freddy and Gracie and could have had access at more convenient times. Plus, this kind of theft doesn't exactly spell murder by a friend."

"You guys got anything better?" Esposito asked, just a hint of a competitive edge to his voice.

Castle grinned over from where he was seated at a computer. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you're going to tell us about it anyway because this time we're all working the _same case_."

"You're no fun," said Castle. "Anyway, they've been keeping it secret pretty well, but Gracie's latest album did horribly in sales, and the record label and her manager have been struggling to get her popularity back up for a while, but it seemed like it wasn't going anywhere. She and Kiet, her manager, never got along that well either, and he'd threatened to stop working for her unless something changed."

"Then why kill her?"

"He needed cash for that drug habit of his and he had no other way of getting it. Kiet had no other clients who were even near how popular Gracie was at her peak," said Beckett.

"Plus if you type in 'reggaeton' and 'death' on Google, you get a bunch of hits for this other artist that died a few months ago," Castle added, typing rapidly. "That guy's sales went way up after his car accident. Maybe Kiet remembered that and thought the publicity from Gracie's death could boost sales to pay off some of his drug money."

"Yeah, because Google searches are definitely the best tool to solve crimes," said Esposito, eyebrows raised.

"Hey, you can find everything on Google," Castle replied, defensive.

"I used to like 'Ask Jeeves' myself," Ryan mused. "Maybe if he were still around, we could ask him who murdered Gracie Quinones and then bam! We'd have an answer."

"You do realize he wasn't a real person, right?" Esposito said.

"Okay, back to the manager now," said Beckett. "Do any of us think these motives are strong enough – and specific enough – to really pin down Kiet Cohen?"

They all looked at each other for a moment. "Nah," said Castle finally, scrunching up his nose. "Much as I'd like to believe my own theory, it still seems a little implausible, doesn't it?"

Beckett laughed. "And when Castle thinks that something seems implausible, we know we're really in trouble." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I think we're all a little too close to this right now. Let's call it a night and come back refreshed tomorrow."

Ryan and Esposito both had paperwork to finish, while Castle said his goodbyes and left, with Beckett wrapping up her things and following suit not long after. Too long for her to _actually_ be following Castle, unfortunately, Ryan mused.

He tried to concentrate on finishing his C2 form, but Ryan couldn't help glancing up to look at Esposito over at the other computer. He looked exhausted. Ryan could swear that Esposito had glanced a few times at him as well, though. After a few minutes, he cracked a grin at Esposito, trying to joke. "Apparently tonight's not the big night, huh?"

Esposito looked up, startled. "What?"

Ryan could almost swear that he was flushing a little. "For Castle and Beckett," he clarified. "Man, we need to start betting on when that actually happens."

Esposito gave a short laugh. "Right. Yeah."

Ryan licked his lips, trying to think of something else to say, but Esposito had gone back to his work. Ryan finished his and got up, tapping his fingers idly on the keyboard. He was pretty tired too, but something kept him from wanting to leave right away. "Think I'm done," he said finally. "You, uh, need anything?"

Esposito hesitated for the briefest instant, then shook his head. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah," said Ryan, feeling strangely bereft. "See you."

*

Ryan had a crystal-clear recollection of the expression on Castle's face when he saw his ex, Kyra, at that crime scene for the first time in all those years. Shocked, definitely; pleased, and just a bit wistful, as if he were staring at a memory itself instead of just a woman. It looked like it had taken him a second to even remember how to breathe.

But even clearer to him was the look on Beckett's face as she watched Castle: embarrassed, stunned, and equally heart-stopping in its intensity. It was painful to see, even though she recovered quickly and returned to her job, because it was a cruel reminder of how vulnerable even Kate Beckett could be.

He thought he knew how that felt because he'd been hurt before, been dumped, had his heart broken. But there was something slightly different about left out on the sidewalk like this, seeing a slice of someone's past that could never be properly understood by those who weren't there at the time.

It took Ryan quite a while to fall asleep that night. The look was a lot more painful, he realized, from the other side.

*

Esposito was already frowning into a phone when Ryan got to the precinct the next morning.

"Yeah, can you double check that?" he was asking. He gave Ryan a brief smile and grabbed one of the muffins that Ryan held out (cranberry as usual; Ryan was a blueberry kind of guy himself), cradling the phone on his shoulder as he picked at the wrapper. He didn't look any more rested than he had the previous night.

Ryan pointed to the phone with a questioning look. Esposito half-shrugged and tried not to drop the phone, then mouthed something. When Ryan shook his head, he mimed shaking something, pouring, and drinking.

"The bartender?" Ryan hadn't thought there were any leads in that direction, but Esposito nodded, so clearly he'd found something to make him curious.

Ryan was at the espresso machine when Esposito gave a muffled, "Thanks, bye," mouth full of muffin, and hung up, stalking over. Ryan handed Esposito his own coffee. "Did you get any sleep at all?" he said reproachfully.

Esposito waved a hand. "Yeah, but I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep so I came in. But guess what I found out?"

"The bartender did it?" Ryan guessed.

"Well, the bartender – Van Schuyler –certainly did something," said Esposito. "I was doing more extensive background checks on all of the main suspects and realized that his paper trail only runs a few years back. Even more digging and I noticed some strange connections between him – or his false identity, I guess – and a number of robberies."

Ryan gave a low whistle. "The missing rubies. So they did tie in somehow."

By the time Beckett and Castle come in half an hour later, they'd managed to draw enough solid connections between Schuyler and a jewel theft two months before to seem pretty incriminating. "Where have you guys been?" Esposito said to them, eyebrows raised.

"Lanie called," Castle explained. "We dropped by her lab first."

"She ran a few more tests on the original blood samples she had from just after Gracie had been killed," said Beckett, already scribbling on the murder board. "She found that there were traces of a narcotic in her blood – enough to knock her out pretty well."

"Did she take any kind of sleeping medication?" Ryan asked.

"Not that we know of," said Beckett, shaking her head. "There's strong evidence that she was purposefully drugged. Someone must have slipped it into her drink."

"The _bartender_," said Ryan, exchanging a look with Esposito. "It's perfect."

"Well, it could've been pretty much anyone at the party who had a chance to tamper with her drink," Castle reasoned.

"Not when you hear what we just discovered," Esposito said grimly. "Believe me. It was the bartender."

*

Esposito tapped his fingers lightly on the one-way glass as they watched Beckett bring Van Schuyler into the room for questioning. "You sure you don't want to do it?" she had asked him earlier.

"Nah," said Esposito with a crooked smile. "We all know you're the best, and there's a lot riding on this."

He seemed much more restless now, and for the first few minutes Ryan was watching him more than the interrogation, tuning back in when he heard Beckett's voice take on that hard quality of closing in for the kill.

"Mr. Schuyler, you had the opportunity and the motive to kill her," said Beckett, "not to mention the chance to drug her. And I'm going to bet if we search your house we'll find that necklace. Do I really need to get a warrant?"

"No!" Van said, panicking. "Look, I did steal the necklace, okay? And I drugged her to make it easier. But I didn't kill her!"

Castle snorted. "Good luck telling that to a jury."

Van put his head in his hands. "Just let me explain, okay? Firstly, if I drugged her, why would I have any reason to shoot her? She didn't budge when I went in there – though she wasn't dead at the time, I could hear her breathing – so there was no reason for me to do anything but search for the necklace. Besides, I didn't have a gun."

"So when was it that you broke into her cabin, then?"

"Around one a.m. – I asked for a quick cigarette break and just walked down the deck to her cabin. Like I said, she was still alive. I just took what I needed and left."

"Even if what you say is true, you'll have a hard time proving it," Castle pointed out.

"But that's not all," Van insisted. "I didn't come up with this job on my own. Someone _hired_ me to steal from Gracie Quinones. And whoever it was must've been the murderer, because they managed to frame me pretty fucking good."

"Who hired you?"

"I have no idea. It was all completely anonymous – voice modifier on the phone, money orders to pay the first deposit, everything. They managed to get me the gig on the boat too."

"Didn't Freddy Quinones hire you himself?"

"Yeah, but my client must have recommended me to him or something. I know there was a connection."

Beckett leaned forward, eyes glittering. "Why should we believe you?" she said deliberately.

"Because I had _no reason_ to steal the necklace myself," Van pressed. "They weren't real rubies. They were fakes. I could tell as soon as I picked them up. I looked around the rest of the room but nothing else was there, so I figured my client didn't know. If I hadn't been on a contract I wouldn't have taken the risk of stealing them at all. Not that it helped to have a client, since he never contacted me afterwards and left me stuck with the goddamn thing. But it does mean I can give you the necklace as proof."

Castle and Beckett looked at each other, then glanced quickly back at the one-way glass where they knew Ryan and Esposito were watching.

"Well, fuck," said Esposito, heartfelt. Ryan leaned his head against the glass and closed his eyes. Back to square one.

*

The four of them were perched in front of the murder board later that evening, after Van's story about the fake rubies checked out.

"No leads with Kiet Cohen?" Beckett said.

"Nope," Esposito confirmed, rubbing his head, "We were just so sure –"

"Yeah," said Ryan, staring at the board, the names beginning to blur together in his head. They sat in silence again.

"The thing is," said Castle eventually, "if Van Schuyler's right about being framed, then we've got a problem."

"What?" said Ryan.

"All along, we've been thinking of this an impulsive murderer, someone taking the opportunity that the shooting of Freddy Quinones presented – chaos, a gun, an alibi. Even the drugging still made sense with that when Van was our suspect because of his plan to steal the necklace. But if he was framed –"

" – then it was actually premeditated," Beckett finished, frowning.

"But that means only Stef Haase could have planned it," said Ryan. "And she had an alibi for the entire night. Unless she had an accomplice who sneaked into the room to take the gun –"

"Freddy would have seen them," Castle said, shaking his head.

It was Esposito who spoke up then, voice soft and reluctant. "Not if Freddy was the accomplice."

Ryan stared at him. A small, petty part of him wanted to stay silent at that, to not argue with a statement he almost wanted to be true, but only a very, very small part. "That's impossible," he insisted. "Freddy was shot, the doctor said there was no way he could have stood up, let alone walked. And Stef was being watched the whole time. They both had foolproof alibis –"

"And that's convenient, isn't it?" said Beckett slowly. "Almost as if they were working together to secure those alibis."

Castle blinked up at her. "So you mean…huh. That's _good_."

"Whatever it is, it's our best bet." She stood. "I think it's time to take another look at that boat."

"I'll call Freddy and ask him to meet me there," said Esposito grimly. He couldn't seem to meet Ryan's eyes. "By myself."

"Like hell you will," said Ryan fiercely.

"We don't want him to get suspicious."

"Well, I don't want you to get _killed_. It's perfectly natural to bring your partner with you, even if Beckett and Castle don't come."

Beckett opened her mouth to argue with them both, but Castle touched her elbow, a small, surreptitious gesture that Ryan almost missed, and after exchanging a glance with him she acquiesced. "Fine. Both of you go, but we'll have back-up close in on Quinones and Haase on your call. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Yeah," said Ryan, eyes still trained on Esposito's face. "Let's go."

*

Freddy met them at the docks, looking pleased to see Esposito but shooting wary glances at Ryan. Perhaps Esposito was right – it certainly would have been less suspicious for Esposito to casually meet him by himself – but it was absolutely unthinkable for Ryan to send his partner off alone. His stomach clenched at the very thought of it, and he struggled to not let his feelings of worry and hatred of Freddy show on his face.

"Can we come in?" Esposito asked.

"Yeah, of course." Freddy led the way, hobbling on his crutches. "I'll make you guys drinks."

"Technically on-duty," Esposito countered, which seemed to set Freddy's hackles up even more.

"Right, sorry," he replied as they came into the entertainment room and bar.

Only one of the tables was set out, and Stef Haase was seated there with a beer. "Ms. Haase," Esposito said, nodding to her.

Freddy looked uncomfortable. "Stef and I were just – catching up when you called, so she accompanied me here. One of the good things about this whole tragedy – if there can be any good things, I mean – is that we've been able to talk again and grieve over Gracie together." He coughed. "What exactly did you want to talk to me about?"

"We keep coming up on dead ends," Ryan said. "Thought it might be useful to return to the scene of the crime."

Freddy raised his eyebrows. "The crime happened in the cabin where my wife was sleeping."

"That's not the problem we're running into," said Esposito.

"What is?"

Esposito fixed him with a look. "The gun. See, that's where I've been tripping up this whole time. How the hell did the murderer get a hold of it? Ms. Haase, it's a good thing you're here – can you show me where you when you shot Freddy?"

Stef frowned and bit her lip, but she indicated to a spot at the bar.

"And you, Freddy?" Esposito continued.

"Sitting at that table by the wall. Javi, what does this have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I just need to set up the scene," Esposito explained, but he shot a glance at Ryan, just a brief look, but one that was so knowing and _trusting_ that it made Ryan's breath catch in his throat. He gave a slight nod back and scanned the wall.

"And where do you think you dropped the gun?" Esposito was asking Stef, but Ryan continued to examine the wall, his heart pounding. If they were right about this, the only way to catch these two would be with solid proof, and unless they'd managed to cover it up Ryan was about to find it. But he guessed that they'd been too sure of their plan to bother with clean-up, and after all the uniforms who'd searched the ship had been focusing only on Gracie's cabin, so it had to be here _somewhere_ –

And there it was.

"Esposito," said Ryan sharply. "Found it."

"What?" said Freddy.

"The bullet hole from the shot Stef fired," said Ryan.

"The one that didn't actually hit you," said Esposito softly.

Freddy's face froze. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're a very good shot," Esposito told Stef, matter-of-fact. "A lot of people would think it's easier to miss a target than to hit it, but to miss it with skill – making sure the bullet doesn't break anything or make too loud a noise – that's impressive."

Stef had tensed and was staring hard at Esposito, but he turned back to Freddy, who looked as if he were about to throw up. "And you must have faked it pretty well to make all those people believe you were shot. Though people tend to trust what they see, or what they think they see, so if they saw Stef fire a gun and then saw you fall to the ground clutching your shin, they're likely to think you were shot.

"There was one pretty dumb thing you did," Esposito continued, his voice still cool and quiet. "Well, there were quite a few dumb things. But the stupidest was not looking into Gracie's finances before killing her. Though I bet she was fine when you two made this plan, before you faked your breakup and married Gracie for her money, huh? Must've been a big shock afterwards when you realized she was practically broke."

Freddy was wringing his hands now. "Javi, there's got to be some kind of mistake – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me," Esposito growled, finally losing his cool. "And don't call me Javi. You're sick, man. And the fact that you used to be my _hero_ –" He stopped, his sense of rage and betrayal blooming up in his face as he struggled for words.

"You're wrong –"

"Come on, you fucker, at least admit it!" Esposito yelled, and Ryan was so focused on him and Freddy that he almost missed Stef, but he caught a glimpse of her movement out in the corner of his eye. She was reaching one hand into her pea-coat, and Ryan's heart stopped.

He froze for an excruciating, eternal second before jumping forward and shouting Esposito's name. Esposito turned in shock to see Stef pulling out a gun, and Ryan just managed to see the horrified look on his face before pushing him down–

– and then there was a searing pain shooting through his chest, and he fell to the ground.

"Kevin!" Esposito yelled.

Ryan gasped in pain, his breath not coming fast enough, not fast enough, _not enough_. At first he thought it was just the pounding in his ears, but suddenly the room was filled with noise, people shouting and feet clomping on the floor. His vision was starting to go blurry but he could just make out Esposito leaning over him, looking even worse than before, and he was saying something that Ryan couldn't understand because there was so much noise in his head and all around.

He had no idea how quickly time was passing but an eternity later he was lying on a cot and being jostled, and there was another shrill noise in his head that he suddenly realized was a siren. Ryan felt pressure on his hand and blinked his eyes open until he saw, vaguely, that Esposito was holding it and squeezing it so tight it almost distracted Ryan from the pain of the bullet.

"Kevin," Esposito said again, looking stricken, and this time Ryan could just about make out his voice, which, really, was a pretty nice thing to hear just before he swam completely out of consciousness.

*

Ryan came to with his head pounding and a sharp, constant ache in his shoulder, like – well, like a bullet had been lodged in it at some point. Not a direct shot to his chest, then. That was good.

He made slightly strangled sound and tried to blink his vision into focus. He was in a hospital bed, and when he made another sound Esposito leaned over him. For an instant he looked utterly, devastatingly relieved, but when Ryan croaked out a pathetic, "Hi," his expression shifted.

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?" Esposito snapped, and maybe Ryan had to revise his assessment of his partner's moods because _this_ was, undoubtedly, the angriest he'd ever seen Esposito.

"My job?" said Ryan hesitantly, trying to see how much he could extend his arm and wincing when he reached his limit.

Esposito caught hold of his wrist before he stretched any further. "Your job includes staying alive," he said, voice low. "I don't like losing partners."

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" said Ryan, then went on before Esposito could scowl at that, asking, "So what happened?"

"Kevin –"

"What happened with Stef and Freddy?" Ryan pressed.

Esposito sighed, letting go of Ryan's arm, which was not exactly what Ryan had been intending. "Beckett and Castle arrived pretty much just as you were falling to the ground, along with backup. Then Beckett shot Estefani in the leg, which was all the convincing Freddy needed to give himself up as well. Coward." He shook his head. "Castle got to cuff him, so at least someone came out happy."

"Where were you?" said Ryan, puzzled.

Esposito swallowed. "Making sure you weren't dead, at first. Then – well, I got pretty angry. I might have lost control a little."

Ryan frowned. "Define 'a little'."

"Beckett had to disarm me and hold me back from attacking Freddy," Esposito admitted.

Ryan stared, a lump in his throat. The idea of Esposito losing control so much was almost unthinkable, even if Ryan could understand the motivations behind his actions. And the thing was, knowing that Freddy was guilty, that Esposito's illusions were gone, didn't improve anything when it made Esposito this miserable.

He ducked his head a little. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," Esposito said vehemently.

"No, I meant, I'm sorry about Freddy."

A tiny furrow appeared between Esposito's eyebrows. "I'm not," he said. "You were right about him, you know. He deserves whatever he's going to get."

"Yeah," Ryan said softly. "Doesn't make it any easier for you, though."

"What do you mean?" Esposito said, frowning even more.

"He let you down," Ryan insisted. "He wasn't what you wanted him to be, what you thought he was." He quirked his lips, though he felt anything but amused. "That's definitely grounds for trying to attack him."

Esposito was staring at him, a look in his eyes that Ryan couldn't quite make out. "That wasn't why," he said, leaning forward a little closer, intent and utterly serious.

Ryan couldn't seem to draw his gaze away from Esposito's. "No?" he said, completely confused.

"I attacked him because he got my – my best friend _shot_," Esposito said, his voice wavering just the tiniest bit on the last word.

"Oh," Ryan said faintly.

Esposito drew in a breath. "_Kev_ –"

"Is this a private scolding, or is everyone allowed to join in?" said a wry voice from the door.

Ryan started, blinking rapidly, and Esposito sat back in his chair hurriedly. Beckett was standing in the doorway, accompanied by Castle and Capt. Montgomery behind her. "Oh no, come in," Ryan said, feeling his face heat up a little. Probably something to do with being shot. Definitely.

"Yeah, I could use some back-up," Esposito affirmed, not looking at Ryan.

Beckett gave him a narrow look. "Ryan? Don't ever do that again."

"Yes, ma'am," said Ryan, heartfelt.

Esposito threw up his hands. "See, he listens to you!"

Ryan grinned cheekily at him. He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at their ability to make everything funny again, because there had been something else there, something in that moment that hadn't been a joke, that was worth keeping and exploring. But it was gone now, and he didn't know how to get it back.

"Am I in trouble with you, too, sir?" he said to the captain.

"Oh yes," said Capt. Montgomery, shaking his head. "You know how much paperwork you've given me?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Yeah, well, there would've been even more paperwork if you'd been floating down the Hudson with a nice big hole in your chest, so I'm glad you're feeling okay," Montgomery continued, a smile crinkling up around his eyes.

"Am I the only one who thinks he was totally badass?" said Castle.

"_Yes_," Beckett and Esposito retorted together.

Castle rolled his eyes. "It's a sad, sad world when a guy gets shot doing his job and he doesn't even get his well-earned hero time." He patted Ryan's leg. "I appreciate you, buddy."

"Okay, now that we've had the caring, it's time for the sharing," said Capt. Montgomery. "Explain to me exactly how they pulled this off? I'm still confused."

"It's a pretty good story," said Castle, eyes bright, already warming up to the subject. "Stef Haase and Freddy Guzman were in love – true love, the kind that doesn't get broken apart by something as ridiculous as a rich and glamorous friend coming alone. So when Gracie Quinones met Freddy at the engagement party and fell for him, he didn't take any notice of her advances at first. But –"

"Hold on, where are you getting all of this?" Beckett demanded. "You haven't even talked to them!"

"Hello, mystery writer? This is what I do," said Castle. "It's pretty obvious. Once you know the ending, the beginning is easy."

"But you're still pretty much making it up," Beckett said, crossing her arms.

"_Anyway_," Castle said with a pointed glare, "Freddy wasn't interested in Gracie herself, but the amount of debt that he and Stef were in made him very interested in her money. He started wondering – maybe even that night, after Stef ranted about what a bitch her old friend had grown into, trying to steal her fiancée – what it would be like to have the money but not the girl. And he thought, and he thought, and then he asked Stef what she thought, and once they got over the pesky moral dilemmas of committing murder, they began to plan the whole thing, how Freddy would marry Gracie and use the access he had to perform the perfect murder."

"Yes, I think I understand that part well enough now," said the captain dryly. "What about the murder itself? How did they manage to pull off their alibis?"

"They planned it down to the last detail, sir," Beckett put in. "A few days before the party, Freddy anonymously called Van Schuyler, the thief, to hire him to steal Gracie's ruby necklace. He got him to work as the bartender on the boat so that no matter what, he would have to be present for any scene that played out in the entertainment room, and they had someone to take the fall. He even asked Van to drug Gracie so that she would want to go to bed early. Then all that he and Stef had to do was stay up late enough that only a few people were still around. It must not have really mattered who they were, just as long as there were witnesses for the little scene they acted about Stef shooting Freddy in the leg."

"But how could they make sure their witnesses wouldn't see Freddy leave?"

"That must have been a little trickier, but from everyone's accounts both Freddy and Stef managed to clear everyone out for at least ten minutes – Naveen Moorthy to take Stef away and get a doctor, Kiet Cohen to get drugs for Freddy, and Van Schuyler to get the captain. As soon as they were all gone, Freddy ran to his room, shot his wife, came back and shot himself in the leg, and when they returned he didn't have to fake the pain anymore."

Capt. Montgomery shook his head. "Hard to believe people can do these kinds of things."

A well-intentioned nurse bustled in to shoo out Ryan's visitors, and Ryan didn't even argue because he was getting tired and there was no way he was going to get a private moment with Esposito now anyway.

Not that he'd know what to say if he did. Ryan slept.

*

Esposito came to the hospital two days later to take Ryan home.

He'd stopped by a couple times since the first day, but only briefly, as he and Beckett were busy wrapping up loose ends in the case. They sent Castle instead, his mother and daughter dropping in occasionally, and they were so entertaining that they could almost make Ryan forget about the case, Esposito, his shoulder. Almost. Still, he was glad to be seeing his partner again and to be going home.

Esposito caught him up on news about the case – the date for the trial was already set, and Stef and Freddy were expected to each get sentenced to life in prison – as well as the latest precinct gossip. And despite the usual city traffic, the ride home seemed too short as they chatted and bantered like usual. Before long Esposito was sliding his car in at the sidewalk below Ryan's apartment.

They sat there, neither moving for a moment. "Well, uh, thanks for the ride," said Ryan, feeling absurdly awkward.

"No problem, bro," said Esposito, shrugging. That made Ryan feel even worse, for some reason.

"Listen," he blurted out, hardly knowing what he was saying. "I wanted to say sorry."

"You're not going to apologize again for Freddy again, are you?" said Esposito, wary.

"No – well, not in the same way. I wanted to apologize for being such a jerk about, about him. It was completely inappropriate and uncalled for, and I don't even really know why I was being such an asshole, I just –"

Esposito leaned over and kissed him.

It should have been nothing special – just a quick press of lips together, barely a peck – but the feel of Esposito's mouth on his, even for a mere instant, was like waking up from some long and impossible dream, a dulled nightmare of murder and pasts and longing, and realizing that this, _this_ was real life, the way it should be.

For a moment he just stared at Esposito, who was looking equally stunned despite the fact that _he_ had kissed _Ryan_. But even the surprise wasn't enough to make him feel uncomfortable anymore, not enough to take him away from that easy feeling of being with Esposito.

"Okay, you're right," he revised, feeling his mouth beginning to curve into a smile. There was so much more he could say, so many apologies for misunderstandings, so many explanations. But suddenly, none of those were necessary, not when he had Esposito here and close. When they could just be _them_. "That might have been why."

Esposito's expression didn't change but his entire body seemed to relax, settling into the easy grace he usually had around Ryan. He cocked his head, smirking just a little. "I'm always right."

"Oh yeah?" Ryan challenged, eyebrows raised. "You do realize you're in a no parking zone, right?

"It's still a standing zone," Esposito pointed out.

"Oh, you're planning on staying in the car? Have fun with that," said Ryan, and hey, maybe it was moving a bit fast but it all felt so natural and right that he added, "I'll just be upstairs in my nice roomy apartment with my nice big bed – or hey, how about that couch –"

"Shut up," Esposito groaned, turning the key in the ignition to drive around the block.

*

As soon as Ryan had opened his apartment and let them both in, Esposito swiftly pushed Ryan up against the door, which would have been _incredibly hot_ had he not been still recovering from a bullet wound.

"Ow, ow, ow," he gasped, feeling his knees buckle from the pain, and it took Esposito a second to realize and catch him halfway.

"Sorry, sorry," Esposito said urgently, dark eyes concerned. "You okay?"

"I'll live," Ryan said, cracking a pained grin. "And hey, it's worth it."

That didn't stop Esposito from backing away as soon as Ryan was balanced on his feet again. "Yeah, but I'm an idiot. We shouldn't be doing this now, you're barely –"

This time it was Ryan who surged in to kiss him, because really, Esposito needed to stop talking.

Esposito still looked like he wanted to protest after Ryan pulled away, so Ryan had to do it again, and again, until finally Esposito sighed, just a little, and gave up all protest.

"You," said Ryan breathlessly, fisting a hand in the front of Esposito's shirt, "are just too fucking _hot_."

Esposito huffed a laugh. "Me? You drive me crazy, you know that? With your, your eyes, and your mouth, and your ridiculous ties, and your stupid turtle-necks that I always know are just there to cover up whatever your girlfriend did to you the night before –"

Ryan frowned. "Hey, no they're not! I just like turtle-necks!"

"Oh? Then you won't mind if I do this?" said Esposito with a sharp smile, sucking a hard kiss to Ryan's neck on his good side, and Ryan made a completely involuntary noise that sounded way too much like a squeak to his own ears. Esposito grinned against his skin and did it again, teeth grazing over his collarbone in a way that made him a little dizzy, and Ryan couldn't even bring himself to care that he was making the same noise.

Somehow, with a combination of mildly impressive footwork and lots of bumping into things, they made it to the bed. Ryan tugged insistently at the hem of Esposito's shirt until Esposito obligingly took it off, and Ryan had to spend a moment marveling at how ridiculously gorgeous he was.

"Hey, you still with me?" said Esposito, looking a little worried.

"_Oh_ yeah," Ryan replied appreciatively.

He managed to make Esposito look almost bashful at that, something he wanted to repeat as soon and as often as possible, before Ryan dealt with his own clothes, carefully, then pinned Esposito to the bed and straddled his waist.

"Going to have your dirty way with me?" Esposito asked, probably trying to sound smooth but coming out just a little breathless instead.

"You better believe it," said Ryan cheerfully, and the sound of Esposito's laughter was like music to his ears as he kissed him, again, again.

*

Ryan's bed was a little small for two full-grown policemen – or, one pretty well-grown policeman and one slightly miniature one, Ryan amended graciously in his head. Still, they were going to have to do something about that.

Esposito was staring at the ceiling, silent, and Ryan turned his head a little to look at him. "I have to go talk to my family tomorrow," he said, eventually. "Tell them about the case. I'd only mentioned the basics to them before, that Freddy was involved and his wife died, but this is going to be hard. We were all pretty close to his family, especially my brother."

Ryan swallowed and tried to stop the thread of worry that was coiling inside of him. He was going to be a good boyfriend and give Esposito some space with this, he really was –

"Wanna come?" Esposito said.

Ryan started. "Are you sure?"

"It would help," Esposito admitted. "Besides, you do want to be there when I tell my mom about this part of the story, don't you? She's going to be _thrilled_."

"As long as she doesn't bring up Roach," Ryan said with a smile.

Esposito rolled his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow and snaked out a hand to rub idly at a bite mark on Ryan's neck, making Ryan shiver and gaze up at him, unable to keep his mouth from falling open a little. "Yeah?" Esposito said, nonchalant.

Ryan grinned wider and moved in to kiss him, soft and sure. "Yeah," he breathed, eyes sparkling up at Esposito's. "I'll be there."


End file.
